sunset - 12/18/98
it's like
yellow orange bark tangled in
glitter, giving off
rays like that of a
million pepper halogens. as you walk toward it to take a look like a
tortoise approaches what, to us, is
nothing, you feel you should
run. you might as well be that
green sloth. as the
electric hawk, made of
shadows and
fire nears, you try to
hide and somehow find
warmth in what you can't
see. it's
blurring the
colors and
shapes that you see as you
dive and
submerge yourself in the
last of the
golden syrup as it
slowly boils and
blisters your
skin, but it's gone and the
next time you see it will only come after you
accept its
loss. you've got nothing but yourself as your
overhead turns
blue
orange
pink
violet
black